


talk to me, talk to me, like lovers do

by ThisJoyAndI



Category: The White Queen (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:56:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisJoyAndI/pseuds/ThisJoyAndI
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(walk with me, walk with me, like lovers do)<br/>Wildly AU, set in the modern world. 'They both attend Oxford, and she often sees him in the hallways and studying in the library. His curly mop of dark hair frequently falls over his eyes as he reads.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	talk to me, talk to me, like lovers do

He is the fourth York brother, younger than his brothers but older than her by four years.

She is nearly nineteen, bright-eyed and full of hope for her next four years at university. He is nearly finished. She is to study teaching, a career path her sister Izzy had sneered at, content in her employment as an art curator and fine dresses. Despite Izzy’s disapproval of a career she believes will not grant her sister financial security, she can hardly wait for the day when she is credible to teach children; she so desires to rejuvenate their interest in history and plans to educate classes of British teenagers about the battles and wars that are a part of their great nation.

They both attend Oxford, and she often sees him in the hallways and studying in the library. His curly mop of dark hair frequently falls over his eyes as he reads, nose almost brushing the page, and she finds herself entranced when he releases a huff of air and swats his hair back. She learns through careful inquiry that he is top of his cohort, and that he plans to work in government much like his brothers. She cannot envisage him as a stuffy governmental official, but people have often regarded that she does not look like a teacher should, so she can hardly judge him on his career path.

She longs to talk to him, gazes at him over the top of her books in the library until she flushes red and fears someone will notice, dropping her gaze and staring at her book until the black text runs blurry. She does not quite comprehend her worry at speaking to him, for he and his brothers often spent copious amounts of time at her father’s estate during the summer, her father teaching them to ride. They had been forbidden from riding when Izzy had been thrown from her horse and broken her wrist; but Richard often snuck her out of the house during those summer to teach her how to ride, his touch soft on her wrists as he guided the horse out of its stall.

She wonders if he remembers those times, remembers the awkward girl she once used to be. Her father’s nose still sits prominently on her face, and her hair does not shine like Izzy’s, but she regards herself as attractive enough.

Richard, like his brothers, is most definitely attractive. 

He has matured into a young man, broad-shouldered and with sinewy muscle. She longs to run her fingers through his hair to satisfy her curiosity at its softness, and his eyes intrigue her so. She flushes red when she thinks back on the time they used to bathe together, the York sons and the Neville daughters crammed into the expansive bathtub of the master bedroom, bubbles covering their skin and her mother laughing in the doorframe. 

She spends so much time in the library gazing at Richard that her skins turns a shade of pallor she thought not possible. Izzy critiques her on her complexion, tutting at the lank state of her hair. Her father commends her on her dedication to her studies, smiling warmly at her. Her mother asks after her love-life; after a disastrous relationship with Edward Lancaster a few years back, she has gone on minimal dates, mostly set up by Izzy. She longs to tell them about Richard, ask her mother and Izzy for their advice, but something stops her from doing so.

It is a dreary Wednesday, rain pelting the glass windows loudly, when Richard smiles at her. She is bent over her textbook, studying furiously for an approaching test. She straightens up in her chair, reaching an arm back to rub her sore back softly. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, strands tucked behind her ears, and the makeup on her left cheek is smudged from a fist propping her head up as she reads. She stretches back in her chair, her shirt riding up. Tugging it down, she darts her eyes around the library, until she meets Richard’s gaze. She flushes red at the sight of him, inhaling a shaky breath.

He smiles at her.

She will later describe it as the sweetest smile she has ever seen, a slight curving of lips that sends her heart racing causes her blush to redden. She ducks her head, directing her gaze onto the text of her books until she feels the flush leave her skin and her nerves disappear.

When she looks up again, he has disappeared from the library, a mousy-brown haired girl sitting in his place. She swallows her disappointment, biting her lip anxiously. What a fool she has made of herself! Richard will never take her seriously now; she supposes he shall retell the moment to his brothers and the four York brothers will laugh at her immaturity. Izzy shall surely find out through George and she will berate her so.

She shakes her head, swallowing past a lump of despair that has settled on her throat.

~

A few days later, the sun shining through the windows of the library, she settles into her usual seat, discarding her bag with a heavy thump. She rolls her shoulders back and forth for a few moments, tendrils of her hair escaping from her ponytail. She tugs the hair-tie out of her hair, running her fingers through her hair until it cascades over her shoulders. With the hair-tie between her teeth she gathers her hair up into a ponytail once more, wrapping the hair-tie around it securing and tugging two equal halves of her ponytail tightly to secure the hair-tie.

She undoes her bag, pulling out a heavy textbook and notepad filled with her neat writing.

When she looks up, resettling her form on the chair, there is an anxious looking girl in front of her. She arches her eyebrows in confusion, until the girl hands her a note and scurries away. Still confused, she unfolds the piece of lined paper slowly.

_Anne,_ it reads in a tidy scrawl.

_Will you accompany me to Edward’s wedding on the weekend? Izzy will be there with George so you will have someone to keep you company if you find me too boring or my brothers too rowdy.  I’d love to be graced with your company._

_Please let me know._

_Kind regards,_

_Richard._

She drops the note in a rush of nerves. It lands gently on the table in front of her, and her eyes dart around the library in search of Richard. She finds him standing within an aisle, his hands turning the pages of a book slowly, gently, as if he fears the book will break from his touch.

She wills him to look up and meet her gaze, and he does, cradling the book in his hands as he looks at her.

She returns his smile, nodding her ascent to his invitation before returning to her textbook, a red flush spreading over her cheeks – not in embarrassment, but in anticipation. 

**Author's Note:**

> Richard and his brothers have the last name York as I thought Plantagenet wasn't suitable for a modern AU. Edmund, the second living York brother, also Earl of Rutland, survives in this AU as the Cousins War never occurred.   
> Edward Lancaster is Edward, Prince of Wales, son of Henry VI and first husband to Anne Neville.


End file.
